Melting Ice and Breaking Awesome
by Swimming320
Summary: It all started with an invasion in 1941, and continues throught the years. Russia's little sister, Germany's big brother, and the tumultuous relationship that will come to define them. WW2 to present, violence and fluff (hopefully).
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hmmm... weren't expecting this, were you? Well, neither was I. Really, I don't know where this came from, but hey, I don't control the writing bug. This will be multi-chaptered, with violence, and not a lot of fluff until later. Please enjoy, and constructive criticism is appeciated. I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.

Melting Ice and Breaking Awsome

It took something special for a nation to impress Prussia. Of course, none of them could match the awesome him in being awesome, but other countries could still earn his respect, mainly through their combat skills.

Take Poland for example. At first glance, Gilbert obviously would have laughed at the country and tried to conquer it, knowing he would succeed.

A century's worth of Polish-Teuctonic wars had wiped that idea out of his mind, and the albino now had a healthy respect for Poland.

Obviously, the awesome nation had still steam-rolled his neighbor in 1939, but the cross-dresser put up a hell of a fight against both the German and Russian armies.

The point being, Prussia held a small amount of admiration for any nation that could hold their own against him.

So naturally, when Belarus charged straight into his battalion, leaping on top of his command panzer to plunge her dagger into his stomach, Gilbert was extremely impressed.

Glancing down at the hilt portruding from his chest, Gilbert swung his gaze into Natalia's to give her the are-you-fucking-serious-bitch look; before pulling the knife out, stabbing it into her shoulder, and booting the small woman off his tank in one motion.

Jumping down, duly noting the beginning of the panzerkampf (which he would win, of course) Prussia glanced down at his wound. The white skin visible through the tear in his uniform was already fully healed, the sign of a truly powerfull nation. Hemade a mental note to thank West for going along with this whole world-domination thing; Prussia hadn't been this powerful in years.

His army quickly streamed by, leavin only a few burned-out hulks on the flattened plain, advancing to crush the Bolshevik cowards.

Almost as an afterthought, he turned back in curiosity, just in time to neatly sidestep and avoid the blue blur of Belarus lunging for him with her knife.

He smiled, drawing out the broadsword that hung constantly by his side. Eyeing the panting Belorussian, he settled into a fighting stance, sword pointing, and Prussia felt the laughter bubble up to the surface.

"You really want to fight the awesome me?"

Without pausing, she charged yet again and lept, her knife slice blocked by his parry as she answered: "Brother has ordered me to attack, and I will defeat your capitalist empire for him!"

Shaking his head, Prussia let out an incredulous chuckle. "M-hm. Of course you will. Watch me cower in my boots as our Blitzkrieg sweeps across your nation." He lifted a hand to his ear, laughing at her look of utter despair "Hear that? It's the sound of your suicidal attack being crushed by my awesome army."

With a cry of indignition and anger she lept at him again, drawing a second knife to meet his blade as they fought. As a dagger sliced a thin red line across his cheek, Gilbert actually was impressived with the level of dual-wielding skill this communist state utilized. However, nothing could and nothing would stop the German war machine. Prussia laughed as knives pierced his skin, feeling no pain as the opposing nation wore herself out. Twirling around, Prussia dropped his sword to catch both her descending blades, gripping the razor sharp steel as hard as he could.

Staring into her eyes as the blood ran down his arms, Gilbert saw disbelief.

Disbelief that turned to pain as he brough a knee up and kicked the Belorussian away, hearing her grunt of pain as he dropped the knifes, feeling the skin heal back together.

Belarus actually looked physically weak now, coughing up some blood as she fell to her knees. Prussia only burst out laughing, harder and harder as he sprinted forward, feeling the power of the Reich coursing through his veins as he grabbed Belarus by the throat, lifting her up with one hand. He was totally invinc-

Her fist slammed into him, stopping his train of thought with an odd sensation.

For the second time on the same day in 1941, Prussia looked down to see a knife buried in his stomach.

"Impressive resistance for a Soviet state." He drew the knife out of his flesh painlessly, still squeezing her throat. "It's a shame you have to be one of those damned Reds, Germany could use more determined nations *cough* Austria *cough* in the Axis."

Her only response, besides clawing desperately at the snowy hand crushing her neck was to shoot him a death-glare.

Letting out a snarl, Prussia slashed the knife across her hands, a crimson waterfall erupting as skin parted. He threw her a good distance away, hearing the cracks of bone meeting ground.

"Right now Ludwig's dealing with that other Soviet sister, and then we're moving on to the big man himself. Time for Ivan and I to have an unpteenth rematch."

He smirked. "Hopefully this time it'll be final."

Still, with an anguished cry of fury, Belarus rose up and charged, bloodly hands reaching for him. Even as her nails carved furrows ino his uniform, Gilbert slammed his head into hers, sending a dazed Belarus reeling away, before finally collapsing unconscious to the ground.

Prussia stared at the still form for a moment. Great. Germany had given express orders not to kill any enemy countries yet, so he had to take this fanactical commie with him.

Lost in thought, Gilbert almost didn't notice when a commander rumbled up to him in a tank. "Sir, Belarus is completely under German control, procede under orders north?"

Shaking his head, Prussia nodded, "Yeah, continue north, splitting Army Group B and C. Also, have a medic take this nation to the nearest field hospital before having her join us."

"Very good sir."

Clumbing aboard the Panzer, Gilbert could only shake his head. Such determination... Such strength... wasted.

"Crazy bitch."

Shaking his head again, unable to clear the thoughts of their battle from his head, Gilbert smiled as he redirected his thoughts towards the conquest of the Soviet Union.

With an extremely uncoopertaive captive nation in tow, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: And here is Chapter Two! Some more interaction between the two here. Please enjoy, and remember, constructive critisicm is appreciated! I do not own Hetalia.

Chapter Two

Prussia sighed with annoyance. Holding nations as prisoners was never an easy task. Being that a strong country could snap bonds and slaughter ordinary humans with ease, another personification was almost always required to ensure captive enemies did not escape.

And of course, the awesome him was stuck with Belarus. While Ludwig got to babysit Ukraine, who just cried and never was much trouble, he of course had to deal with the younger sister of Russia.

The very obsessive, pissed off, younger sister of Russia.

While West got to go up and start his operation Typhoon, to take out Moscow, Gilbert was stuck with the unenviable task of interrogating Belarus while his forces laid siege to Leningrad. The first month had been death threats and endless ranting about how "big brother" would come and rescue her, and do various nasty things to Prussia, usually involving grevious bodily harm.

She refused to tell the top Gestapo interrogators anything, staying silent through brutal sessions, not revealing anything about the motherland she was a part of. Her resiliance was impressive, although Prussia's admiration ran thin after the third escape attempt. After the fifth straight day of torture, Prussia pulled the Gestapo off her and kept the Belorussian as a normal prisoner, not wanting needless blood spilt.

And not wanting to continue hearing the screams of pain echoing throughout the camp anymore. He was a warrior, not a sadist.

Now, several months later and close to Christmas, all he got when he entered his tent was a stony silence. She was kept handcuffed to her cot at all times, and in the pale light cast by the solitary lantern, Gilbert could see how thin the small nation had become. War truly wreaked havoc on a country, and every day the Germans enroached upon her soil, occupying and destroying, Natalia died a little more.

He stirred up a pot of stew, pouring it out into two bowls, before going over and siting on the bed next to her. Belarus's head was hung, the once shining hair now long and matted, obscuring the woman's face. Reaching out, Prussia placed a bowl in her lap, before offering her a spoon.

Letting it go, she simply sat there.

"What you're going on a hunger strike now?" Gilbert's anger flared up. How dare she refuse his awesomely generous offer of food? "What the hell?"

Silence.

He waved a hand in front of her face. Eyes blinked. "I really don't care if you starve or not, but it is pretty rude to not accept food."

The single word escaped her cracked lips. "Why?"

"Why what?"

Barely visibly, she shook a little. "Why did you not just kill me or my sister? Our countries are under German occupation. Why am I not dead?"

He growled. "Well, as much as I want this whole destroy-the-soviets thing to work out, West gave explicit orders to not kill enemy countries directly. He appreciates other personifications, even Bolsheviks." He glanced at his sword. "Lucky for you, given the number of loyal soldiers you have killed in your breakout attempts.

She gave a hollow laugh. "What do such an 'awesome' country like yourself care about others? Prisoners are weak pawns, only serving a purpose as a tool to incompetant countries."

Her lip curled back in a condenscending smirk. "You and your brother are weak, cowardly German capitalist pieces of trash, who could never be great, doomed to be ridiculed and broken by Europe. Russia never takes prisoners."

The nerve of this girl, to insult her captor and a much more awesome country?! He lashed back, choking back a hiss as he spoke coldly.

"Hm, we're worthless pieces of trash to you? What about your brother, that damn Russian you're always talking about, huh? If he really cares about you, why hasn't he come to rescue you or tried for a prisoner exchange?" He stared into he eyes as she turned away.

"Because. Russia. Is. Weak."

She whipped her head around to glare at him. "You, German, bastard piece of shit... "

The rage, that had been building up inside of him as her rant continued, finally snapped, and Gilbert rushed towards the damn communist woman, hands reaching for her throat, no one spoke about his brother like that-

The metal bowl smashed against his head, and Gilbert stumbled and landed on the bed. Even as he tried to fight back, the handcuff chain slipped over his head, wrapping around his head, and as the blck spots started appearing in front of his eyes, Prussia mentally cursed his own foolishness. His hands grasped feebly at the chain, with the only security being that there was no way she could kill him, Germany still being a strong country.

As he faded, the last thing he heard as the darkness came rushing up was, "I'm coming home, big brother!"

Some time later, Gilbert awoke on the icy floor , gasping for breath as he stared up at the grey canvas. Stumbling outside, he was met by two guards.

"Sir, there's a trail of bodies leading to the motor pool. One of the trucks is gone, with tracks going west. Should we prepare to follow?"

Blinking rapidly and rubbing his throat, Prussia sighed with annoyance. "Just let her go back to Moscow and her damn brother." He sighed again. Ludwig was going to be PISSED when he heard the news, and it would just make Gilbert's life more stressful. What an idiot he was.

He stared after the faintly visible tracks, towards the Russian capital that Germany even now was attacking, where, no doubt, Belarus would find a way back to Russia. He had let his anger get ahold of his senses and paid the price.

Although, he thought as he headed back to his tent, for a occupied, emaciated country, it was an impressive escape.

Not as awesome as his would have been of course, but still,

impressive.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I'm really sorry about the lack of updates for this story, I really will be updating sooner. I just had to figure out where I wanted the story to go, and how to implement that. Please enjoy, constructive criticism is appreciated, and I do not own Hetalia.

September. 1942.

Prussia leapt over the rubble of the destroyed building, the ribbon of blood flying after his gleaming blade as he slashed the throat pf a Russian defender.

He couldn't believe he had been ordered to capture Stalingrad. Ludwig got to sit on his butt up by Leningrad, and Gilbert got the task of capturing an entire city, ome which would certainly fight on ferociously.

At least it seemed to be going well.

Street-by-street, the German 6th Army was gaining ground in the city. Their initial onslaught had been swift and brutal, only now getting bogged down by the Red Army, who tenaciously fought for every inch of this industrial center.

Upon arriving with his command center, Prussia immediately tasked Hungary and Romania with covering the flank. Only a German would capture Stalin's namesake fortress. Surprisingly, he hadn't felt the presence of the big guy yet. Sooner or later on this Eastern front, Gilbert wagered he would run into Ivan, and the results of said encounter were not likely to be pretty.

Executing an officer with a shot to the head, Gilbert let out a short laugh as he sliced his way through the Russians. A red mist floated around him, traveling with every sweep of the blade and pull of the trigger. Raising his arms, he called out to Hans, the squad commander.

"Come on, captain, advance to the next point!" He emptied his pistol clip at the retreating figures, noting the tall building the Russians regrouped at.

Hans nodded, running up past Prussia, the group of elite Wehrmacht troops following towards the building the Red Army had retreated to.

As he stepped closer to the ruins, that feeling Gilbert had been dreading manifested. That exhaustive pull in his mind; the sign that another nation was near.

He opened his mouth to shout a warning to the normal soldiers, just as Hans's head disintegrated in a explosion of red spray, tainting Gilbert's hair and skin.

Even as he barked out a loud "Get to cover!" The rest of the squad fell. Headshots, destroying a well-trained SS team in seconds, accuracy and precision that could only have been achieved by a country.

Picking up a discarded MP-40, Prussia gave a blood-stained grin as he advanced up the stairs of the building. It had been too long since he'd fought with someone who could actually harm him, and these humans were getting boring.

He encountered several soldiers on the first floor, effortlessly dispatching the men with single shots before continuing his ascent to the top floor.

Ducking around a corner, he scanned the room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. On his right he could see the window from which Hans and his squad had been killed, with the only thing on his left being a maze-like series of structural columns.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gilbert caught a flash of that platinum blonde hair flying through the columns; he ducked just seconds before a rifle round slammed into the wall where his head had been.

Ah. Her again.

He should have known. Russia wouldn't leave Moscow, not while Ludwig was in a position to threaten the Russian's capitol. No, instead he would just send the most psycho of the Soviet states for Prussia to deal with.

Just Perfect.

Bringing up the gun, Prussia let loose a burst, temporarily lighting up the darkened room. Another high-powered shot rang out, hitting the ground between his feet, and he continued walking.

A flash of white, another pull of the trigger.

He stood in the middle of the rows of columns, finger on the trigger as he glanced around. He turned again, fired again, turned again, and Belarus leapt from the shadows, swinging a rifle at his head.

Gripping the gun, Prussia lunged forward, his shoulder hitting her stomach and sending both nations flying forward onto a balcony. He scrambled to his feet, fists raised and facing his opponent.

Natalya slid her hands out from her fur-lined coat, holding knives as she circled Gilbert. Lunging forward with a snarl, she swept both blades down at the german; he caught her right wrist even as her left hand buried the knife into his shoulder.

A short growl escaped Prussia's mouth as he wrenched the blade out of his shoulder, weighing it in his hand. Glancing at the Belorussian woman, he gave a demonic grin as a red stain spread across his grey coat.

"This seems to be a recurring theme between you and me."

She gave something resembling a smirk. "I think it's appropriate, German."

"You know, I'm looking forward to burning this city to the ground."

Her face hardened. "As long as I have troops and strength to fight, this city will resist."

Another grin graced his face as he slowly turned the knife around in his palm. "Well, then I guess this will be quite... Interesting."

And without even lifting his arm, Prussia turned and hurled the knife at Belarus. With the reflexes of a country, she flipped backwards over the balcony's railing, her head just inches under the flying knife. The blade sung off into the air, as a few locks of platinum fluttered down to the railing.

Even as he calmly walked towards the railing, where he knew she would be gone, Gilbert sighed. A titanic urban fight was ahead, and too make matters worse, he was going to have to fight her on a daily basis.

Calling Gilbird, he stalked back out of the building towards the HQ, ignoring the drops of blood falling off his coat with every step.

The battle for Stalingrad had begun.


End file.
